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As the World Churns

The Son Who Burned Bridges

Bearing Fruit

In a Garden State

A Realization

Poetry Publisher

The Sculpturer

Human Beans

Hijab

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One Way Ticket

I bought a one-way ticket for home,
This is the very last train I'll ever get on,

No more round-trips for me,
I'm headed for my final destiny,

I can offer you no wisdom and it seems I've
run out of time,

When the last whistle blows it will mark the
end of the line.


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